Collateral
by Torithy
Summary: When the Sons of Anarchy are involved, there always seems to be collateral damage to consider. Pity they sometimes consider it too late.
1. One

**Collateral**

* * *

 **One**

Broken glass, blood on the floor, and once again she was left to clean up the mess.

With her hands on her hips, Norah Gerick surveyed the dimly lit bar and huffed a stray lock of the fiery red hair piled on top of her head out of her eyes before getting down to work. The short, tight black dress she had on under her cropped denim jacket wasn't exactly practical, but at least her biker-style boots simply crunched unscathed over the shards of broken beer bottles.

Fucking Gerry. She supposed if the owner wanted to wade into some domestic threatening the peace in his domain, that was his prerogative. But did he really have to skip out on the aftermath? Still, she should have seen it coming. The little blonde stoner with the abusive boyfriend had been eyeing the burly owner ever since he stepped in to warn that he didn't tolerate that shit in his bar – and when that didn't sink in and Gerry finally laid him out for almost dislocating his girl's arm hauling her towards the door, she'd stuck around to be consoled with free tequila.

Last Norah had seen them, she'd been showing her appreciation on her knees out back. And Gerry, one hand buried in that cheap dye job, had tipped Norah a wink and tossed her the keys in unspoken confirmation that he'd be leaving early and she'd be in charge of locking up. Again.

Shaking her head at her boss's seemingly uncanny ability to get caught up with every neurotic mess out there, she sighed to herself and found a clean glass to pour a shot of whiskey from one of the many optics on the wall behind the bar. She'd earned that much, she decided, sipping the amber liquid before starting to sweep up the mess made when Gerry had put the object of his distaste through a table.

Fights weren't uncommon at the Waterhole. But at least they tended to be just that, fists flying and tempers boiling over. Maybe the occasional slash with a broken bottle. It could always be worse.

Gerry kept a baseball bat hidden behind the bar, but Norah had never seen him use it for anything other than a threat. She'd never even seen the gun locked away in his office, although he had told her it was there. Regulars knew not to make too much trouble though. The bar owner could handle himself, but he was also well connected and there were unspoken lines that were not to be crossed. Not without the certainty of bringing a shitload of misery down on your head.

And most people would rather face the bat.

Stopping to put some music on the jukebox in the corner, Norah turned her attention to collecting the glasses that hadn't ended up smashed on the floor, straightening the row of leather-topped stools that ran the length of the bar and wiping down tabletops. Only when the place was more or less back in order did she start collecting the takings from the cash registers, before heading to the office to do the count and then secure the money in the safe so Gerry could bank it the next day.

It was quieter out back, but the music still drifted through from the jukebox and she was humming to herself as she worked. Even so, she still heard the footsteps from behind. Heavy boots trying to tread softly.

But, before she could turn, one arm snaked around her waist and the other clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Gotcha," came the rough whisper in her ear, her captor's breath hot on her skin.

* * *

Long after closing time, the bar stayed dimly lit and the jukebox kept spilling classic rock out across the deserted bar. It was almost eerie, with that glass of whiskey barely touched – as if everyone had, by some kind of mutual agreement, simply upped and left in a hurry.

And yet, the long, low moan suggested the place wasn't quite as abandoned as it might at first seem.

" _Please_ …"

The word seemed to be dragged from breathless lips, fading into another groan and then another. The unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh suggested the chances of anyone noticing an intruder were reasonably slim. And even if they did, they were unlikely to be in a position to do much about it.

"Coulda been anyone, doll … You gotta be … more … _fuck_ … careful."

The irony of the rough warning, ground out between gritted teeth, was not lost on those who overheard it and the leader smirked even as he stepped closer. Sure enough, as deduced, there was a glimpse to be caught through the open door of the targets fucking on the office table.

And even just a glimpse was enough to clock the tell-tale reaper on that leather-clad back.

* * *

From the moment she had sensed his presence, she had known it was him. She wasn't even sure how, but she had. It wasn't even down to the tread of his boots or some faint scent of his cologne. She just knew.

So while her body's instinct had been to tense at finding herself held captive, it hadn't taken more than a few seconds for her to allow herself to relax and press herself back against him. Being held so securely to that muscular chest quickly took on a new context – one that sent a thrill shivering down her spine.

"Gotcha," the biker whispered roughly, his breath hot on her ear before he pressed an even hotter kiss to her neck. "Miss me?"

Norah didn't answer, not with words anyway. Instead, she twisted in his arms to glare up at him, bright green eyes locked on clear blue. But rather than looking chastened, his lips curved into a grin.

"That's a yes."

"Fuck you, Koz."

The grin on that infuriatingly handsome face never faltered and the heat of those blue eyes raking over her only intensified, doing nothing to strengthen her resolve.

"Anytime, sweetheart," he drawled.

And that was more or less how she ended up with her dress hiked up and her panties in his pocket, gripping that fucking leather cut of his as he fucked her into Gerry's office table. She'd sworn she wasn't doing this again, and yet here she was, on the verge of yet another Kozik-induced orgasm. The man was like a goddamn drug. Which, she fleetingly acknowledged, was ironic for an ex-junkie.

"Jesus, Norah …" the biker groaned, tugging her closer to the edge of the desk to try to get better leverage.

Her head fell back as she felt him thrusting deeper inside her, biting her lip to keep from crying out. His movements were getting less controlled as he edged closer to his own peak, but he shook his head at that.

"Let me hear you," he managed. "Fuck, Norah … Cum for me, babe …"

She'd sworn she wasn't doing this again, but it didn't stop her wrapping her legs around his hips and her arms around his broad shoulders as he lifted her easily off the table to send her back crashing up against the nearest wall. His mouth found hers briefly, before dropping to press a kiss to her shoulder and then picking up the pace with his thrusts, his hands tightening their grip on her ass as he held her up.

"Oh god …" she moaned, her body trembling in response to his. "Yes … Oh fuck, Koz, _yes!_ "

* * *

Fuck, he'd gotten careless. Too caught up in the scene in front of him to notice that he'd stepped forward and just enough to the side that, had the redhead's eyes not drifted closed, she might have caught sight of him over the biker's shoulder and through the doorway.

Even a split second glance could have ruined that moment of ecstasy – and more importantly, his plans.

Because, for now, he would let them have their time together. His next move … That would keep. For now.

* * *

"Happy?"

Kozik frowned at the curtness of her tone, watching her shimmy her figure-hugging dress back in place even as he zipped up the fly of his baggy jeans. "At the clubhouse-"

Norah snorted at that. "Not him. You. Happy now? Get what you wanted, did you?"

He eyed her thoughtfully and then simply shrugged as he fished in his pockets for his smokes and a lighter. "Would rather get you naked, but I ain't greedy. Oh, come on, Nor – you wanted this as much as I did."

"Get over yourself," she scoffed, putting a little swagger in her step, knowing he was following as she strolled back out to the bar, fluffing her hair as it now hung in loose tousled waves. "You scratched an itch. That's it."

He caught up to her with a few long strides and pulled her close with an arm snaked around her slim waist again. "You never did have a problem getting over me," he murmured over her shoulder. "Or under me … Admit it, doll. 'Cause you never heard of body language? Every inch of you is telling me you missed me."

Kozik let his hand slide down her stomach, drifting lower and lower until his palm pressed over her core.

"Maybe I just … missed your dick," she managed.

He laughed at that, grinding against her ass and letting her feel that he was already more than ready for round two. "That's my dick telling you it's mutual," he teased, his fingers inching under her dress again, only remembering her black lace panties were still in the pocket of his cut when he found her already bare.

He both heard and felt the little hitch of her breath as his thumb grazed her clit, and he smiled knowingly to hear it turn to a stifled whimper as he slowly sank two fingers knuckle-deep inside her tight heat. Her hands gripped his arm as he kept it wrapped securely around her waist, fairly confident he could make her knees buckle before too long.

"How's that itch?" Kozik growled, his fingers roughly mimicking his early ministrations, pumping slowly in and out of her soaked pussy, even as the cock they had replaced once again strained uncomfortably against his fly.

"Koz …"

His name fell from her lips, melting into a low moan when he curled his fingers to find the perfect spot to drive her crazy. Sure enough, she caught her lower lip between her teeth, tilting her head back against his shoulder and rocking her hips against his hand to try to make the most of what he was offering.

"You need my cock again, baby?" he asked huskily, the hand around her waist caressing slowly upwards until he could fill it with the full, firm mound of her breast. His other hand slipped from under her dress to fumble in the pocket of his cut again, only to come up empty, making him curse. "Shit, need another condom."

"Bathroom," Norah bit out, pulling away from him to try to get her breathing back under control. "Hurry up."

"Don't fucking move," the biker warned, shooting her a longing grin over his shoulder and raking a hand through spiked blond hair that was damp with sweat at the temples.

She rolled her eyes, letting her dress slip back down her thighs and reaching for her neglected glass of whiskey, having to take a deep steadying breath before she could manage a sip.

"He's not that good," she muttered, scolding herself for losing control. Even though she knew he was _exactly_ that good. Always had been.

* * *

All things considered, the redhead was much too distracted to think anything of the thud from the men's bathroom. If anything, she supposed she assumed Kozik had – in his haste – fallen foul of the temperamental vending machine and tried thumping it rather than go empty-handed, all things considered.

Sure enough, she was still sipping her drink when heavy footsteps closed in from behind and strong arms wrapped around her like before – one tight around her waist and the other clamping a hand over her mouth.

"Gotcha," came the rough whisper in her ear, her captor's breath hot on her skin.

She didn't recognise the voice.


	2. Two

**Two**

The dull ringing sound seemed to blossom out of the darkness, forcing eyes that were already closed to scrunch up a little tighter as the pain caught up with the sound. The throbbing head vied with aching ribs and arms that strained under the weight they were forced to bear.

Course rope bit into the delicate skin of the wrists it bound tight and bare, outstretched toes scrabbled for purchase on the concrete floor they could only just reach.

Eyes flickered open and closed again with a groan.

Fuck.

"Miss Gerick, back with us?" came the lazy drawl. "Go ahead and open those pretty eyes. Wouldn't want you to miss this … _I said open your fucking eyes!_ "

Norah couldn't help flinching at the sudden harshness of the tone, then quickly wished she hadn't when even that slight movement seemed to send an agonised flare through her shoulder blades. She somehow managed to bite back on the cry that bubbled to her dry lips though, fighting back fear and the instinct to panic or plead, not wanting to give her captor the satisfaction of hearing it.

"Like that, is it?" the voice now sounded merely bemused. "Oh, don't worry, darlin'. When I want you to scream … You will."

She could feel her heart racing in her chest, her skin hot and flushed, and something wetly sticky oozing down the side of her face. Blood, if she had to guess.

Memories of the struggle in the bar flickered dimly to life. It hadn't lasted long, even after she wrested herself out of grasping hands and dashed for the door, only to find her path already blocked. Inevitably, lashing out with a shard of shattered whiskey glass still clutched in her bloodied hand had only provoked real fury. And the force of the blow she'd been dealt in response finally put the fight out of her, knocking her to the floor and into almost welcome oblivion.

"Don't make this any more difficult for yourself," that mocking voice advised from the shadows. "Real little wildcat, ain't ya? Your boy didn't put up half the struggle. Still, let's not go thinking less of him - tire iron to the back of the head'll quiet anyone."

Norah's stomach lurched at that, sickened by the thought of how badly injured the biker might be.

"Hey, don't worry, I'm sure we can find someone else to … _scratch that itch_ …"

She could practically hear the smirk as her own words were thrown back at her, making her flush hotly when she realised they – whoever _they_ were - must have been watching the bar the entire time. It should have been the least of her worries, all things considered, but it still creeped the fuck out of her. She had no idea who was behind this, or what they wanted, but the lengths they seemed prepared to go to didn't exactly bode well.

For her, or Kozik.

Suddenly realising her underwear was, presumably, still in Koz's pocket, she tensed as it dawned on her just how vulnerable she was – and already had been. Compared to this painful awakening, unconsciousness had seemed like bliss. But the dull ache between her thighs … It almost made her gag to think that might be more than just the result of losing control with the man she, however reluctantly, trusted.

She couldn't tell. Her dress, riding almost obscenely high given the way she had been trussed up, had been ripped at the neck and hem and she could feel numerous bruises no doubt brewing beneath her skin. But … she couldn't tell. And she forced herself to blink back tears. No point crying over imagined horrors when those staring her in the face were much more pressing.

And her captor, or at least one of them, was now staring her right in the face.

It was dark, wherever they were. Shadowy, as a result of one dim light in the corner. Quiet. Not silent though, not with her own ragged breathing sounding harsh over the creaks and groans of the building. She couldn't tell what kind of place it was. Only that there were no windows, or none she could see anyway. It was hot, almost stifling, and beads of sweat trickled down her skin, mingling with blood and grime.

And he was right there, just feet in front of her. Just a man all in black, with a thick dark beard and dark eyes. The shadows made it difficult to tell, but she thought he could be maybe sixty. Not as tall as Koz. Heavier.

Cruel. That was how he looked to her. She couldn't have explained why. He just did. Although, she supposed knowing what he had at least had a hand in doing may have coloured her opinion. Not that she thought he would care. She could imagine he was a man who had been called worse things than cruel.

"Some bitches never learn," he said, the words casual even as the glare seemed to intensify. "Spreading those legs for the bad boy like it's just a thrill. No fucking idea what you're getting into until it's too late …"

Norah's mind was racing right along with her heart, trying to figure this out. She had to assume Kozik was the _bad boy_ inquestion, so she could only suppose these were people he had somehow pissed off. Probably through that damn club of his. And no matter what her captor might think, she wasn't stupid. She knew exactly who Koz was, what he was capable of, and the risks of getting involved with him.

That was precisely why she'd tried to stay clear. _Tried_ being the key word.

"Still, I thought Gerry might have had more sense."

Hang on, _Gerry?_ What the hell did he have to do with this? Norah was still trying to figure it out when light footsteps approached from out of the shadows. Her eyes widened, startled to recognise the face that came into focus.

" _You!_ "

* * *

A wry smile greeted Norah, clearly pleased to see her reaction, as if this was the big cliffhanger reveal in some TV drama or maybe a magic show. A wave of the magician's hand and look at the little stoner appear.

She didn't look like a stoner now though. Oh, she looked every bit as young – maybe younger actually, no longer smothered in brash make-up and with her pale silky hair freshly washed instead of hanging around her face in lank strings. But now she looked bright and alert instead of nervy and strung-out. Either it had all been act or she knew a seriously good rehab facility and Norah had been unconscious for longer than she thought.

None of that offered any clues as to why the hell she was here though. And, if she was here, where was Gerry?

Another thought struck Norah and set her mind reeling again. Their faces. They hadn't covered their faces, either of them. And that could only mean they didn't care about being identified.

Because dead bartenders can't talk.

"You look terrified," the girl said, her tone conversational. Almost pleasant in fact, like they were talking about the weather or something equally run-of-the-mill. "That's good. You'd have to be pretty dumb not to be."

"W-Who are you?" Norah finally tried, her mouth so dry it was hard to get the whispered words out. "Why are you doing this?"

The girl shared a glance with the man who loomed silently beside her and sighed like she'd been disappointed. "Not that smart after all, I guess," she shrugged, before turning back to Norah with another little smile. "Sorry, honey, no one lays it all out like that in the real world. You've been watching too much Hollywood."

"Maybe you should give her a few more home truths," came the sneer from the watching man in black.

The girl smiled almost sympathetically at Norah at that, even as she met his words with what seemed to be a mildly chastening look. "He's saying that to be mean," she said. "But he's not wrong. Letting you be misled by some movie-style fantasy in your head would be cruel. You see it all the time, don't you? Some little blonde bimbo just there to be the big bad's victim. Some pretty damsel-in-distress just there to be saved."

She moved in closer, reaching out to brush a stray lock of Norah's hair back from her eyes with gentle fingers. "Well, this is the real world, my love," she whispered in her ear. "And guess what? Sometimes no one comes to the rescue."

Those same delicate fingers suddenly twisted in the very hair they were stroking, tightening their grip and sending a flare of pain through the redhead's scalp, making her cry out. "And sometimes," the girl said, still in that same soft, even tone. "Sometimes the little blonde _is_ the big bad."

* * *

Slumped on the floor in a dark corner, Kozik was too exhausted for the show of anger and frustration he might have otherwise displayed. His head was full of jack-hammers, the waves of nausea a sure sign of concussion, and no fucking wonder after the way some chicken-shit asshole jumped him and rung his bell with what he could only assume was a crowbar or a tire iron.

"Mother _fucker_ ," he groaned, as every attempt to shift his weight only resulted in another flare of agony.

They must have given him a helluva kicking while he was out. Everything hurt. From his face to his kidneys. And the rope cutting into his bound wrists only added insult to injury. His ankles were tightly tied too, but at least the thick denim of his jeans kept that from hurting in the same way.

They'd taken his gun, his knife and the burner phone he'd had on him, obviously, but also his leather cut and that rankled too.

All in all, as a former Marine who'd long-since turned outlaw, he'd probably been in worse positions though. But at least he'd known how he'd ended up in them. He had no fucking clue who or what was behind this, and that frustration was eating at him.

And yeah, Kozik realised, he wanted to know what the fuck had happened to Norah.

He knew better than ask though.

He tried to tell himself it didn't matter what the reality was, so there was no point thinking about it or over-analysing it. Right here, right now was hardly the time or the place. As it stood, he knew nothing of his attackers and had no idea how much or how little they knew about him. But if this, as seemed to be the only likely answer, was some beef with the Sons of Anarchy … Well, he didn't want her ending up as collateral damage. And the problem was all about perceptions.

Asking about her would only draw attention to her, when he had to hope she had simply been dismissed as some girl from a bar. Someone who could have been anyone. Someone who didn't matter.

Number one rule – give nothing away.

The cry that seemed to come from another room broke his train of thought and made him swear darkly. Was that Norah? Could be. It was definitely a woman, scared and hurting …

Kozik dashed his bound fists helplessly against the wall, ignoring the fresh burst of pain.

" _Fuck!_ "


	3. Three

**Three**

"Poor baby …"

A gentle hand caressed his cheek and Kozik, still half out of it after drifting off in the darkness, found himself leaning instinctively towards that touch. A fingertip traced his jawline and he tried to open his eyes, Norah's name falling unbidden from his lips in something that was half-whisper, half-groan. The touch withdrew.

"No one likes to hear another woman's name," came the soft rebuke, the voice light and feminine. "Still, at least that answers one question. But why don't you tell me exactly – what does she mean to you, Mr Kozik?"

Fighting against the pounding in his head, the biker inwardly cursed himself for having let anything slip. He contemplated silence, but quickly realised that would never be enough to satisfy. Not now.

"Nothing," he finally mumbled, trying to shrug. Knowing protesting too much would do more harm than good.

"Do you often moan the names of women who mean nothing to you as you wake up, Mr Kozik?"

The question was wry in its disbelief and he managed to open his eyes, squinting against dim flickering light that somehow still seemed too bright to find a young blonde girl crouched in front of him. A little smile tugged at her pale pink lips.

"She's … She's just some broad who don't deserve to be caught up in this shit. Just let her go. She ain't stupid, she won't talk. She's no one. Her being here ain't anything you can use."

"It didn't look like nothing when you were having sex with her in the bar. Looked pretty … intense actually."

It sounded almost like she was teasing him and Kozik struggled to try to work out exactly what was going on – who the hell this girl was and why she cared enough to watch him and Norah together. Had they been watching the bar? Had they followed him? He had no idea.

Because he simply didn't know who he was dealing with.

She laughed lightly. "I can practically see your brain working," she said. "And I'm sure that's not easy right now. You took quite a hit to the head. Necessary, I'm afraid. We couldn't risk you putting up a fight, maybe even getting away to go get your biker buddies. Don't worry though – we'll get word to them soon enough."

"What do y-you … want …" Kozik ground out, make the girl smile in a way he didn't like one bit.

Rising up out of her crouch, she paced the floor in front of him casually. "This whole thing's been serendipitous really," she said, almost as if she was musing aloud rather than speaking to him. "We weren't expecting that. I mean, revenge is one thing, but imagine finding out there's a connection that could actually help our cause …"

Kozik was already struggling to keep up through the fog in his brain, but he thought he understood.

"You think … You think the Sons'll _help_ you? After this?" he scoffed, lacking the energy to even care if it pissed her off. "You must be out of your mind, little girl. And your depth. Listen, I ain't got a fucking clue who you are, so you wanna start by telling me the fuck we're supposed to have done to spark this _revenge_ of yours?"

But if he'd thought she might get angry at that, he was wrong. Instead, she simply giggled at him. It was fucking maddening.

"Not you, silly. Don't you see? That woman who means nothing … She's the reason you're here."

* * *

Kozik's face darkened as anger seemed to seep into his veins along with his captor's words and both slowly infiltrated every aching inch of his body.

This whole time he'd been thinking some shit the Sons had gotten themselves caught up in had been the reason for all this. That it had been his fault Norah was, presumably, also tied up in the darkness somewhere. It happened often enough, if he was honest. Shit going south. Blowback. Civilians getting caught in the crossfire. But this was actually on _her_. The sexy little bartender he kept thinking he'd grow tired of and yet somehow kept finding his way back to …

Jesus fucking Christ.

Although, he probably should have been relieved. That little insight did seem to take a little of the urgency out of his predicament. The Sons had crossed some seriously bad people in their time. Norah though … Well, how bad could this shit really be?

Oh, he was no chauvinist. He knew better than to underestimate a woman purely because she was a woman. His world may have been dominated by men in power, but he'd known a few women worth fearing. Hell, he may not have been scared of Gemma Teller-Morrow, but he knew better than cross her lightly.

This silly little bitch in front of him though, with her smiles and her giggles …

"This is over Norah?" he growled, shifting where he sat slumped against the wall, newly energised by his fury and testing the constraints of his bonds again. If he could just get a hand free, he'd fucking throttle that gash. "What kinda fucked up jealous schoolgirl shit is this?"

Cold blue eyes lighter than his own moved in close as the blonde all but bared her teeth at him. "I wouldn't talk like that if I was you," she snarled, a small hand reaching to cup him through his jeans before squeezing hard enough to make him yelp. "It's not nice and I'm not a little girl."

She let up her grip and he collapsed back against the wall with a stream of expletives.

"Maybe I'll let your friend get you up to speed," the girl said, her head cocked on one side like an inquisitive little bird. "She has always liked telling tales."

"Wait …" Kozik groaned.

But she'd already turned on her heel and left him alone in the humid darkness.

* * *

Next time he heard a door open and footsteps came towards him, he immediately knew they were too heavy to be the little blonde and tensed instinctively. Not that it would do much good, tied up as he was.

"On your fucking feet," came the order, even as he was grabbed roughly.

Despite the protests of his aching body, it wasn't in the biker's nature to go quietly and Kozik tried to slam his elbow into the gut of the man dragging him upright – only for the retaliation to see him propelled head first into the wall he'd been slumped against. For a moment, he was certain he was going to either black out or throw up and neither prospect appealed much. Although he supposed unconsciousness did have its blessings, all things considered.

Before he could regain his bearings, some kind of rough sack was tugged over his head and a claustrophobic kind of darkness swallowed him, muffling his shouts of protests.

"Move!" his latest tormentor snapped, prodding him in the back and forcing him to shuffle along with his ankles still tied.

If it wasn't for the vise-like grip on his arm, Kozik had no doubt he'd have fallen in a second, but he couldn't exactly bring himself to feel grateful under the circumstances. He just hoped he could find a way to get rid of his fucking bonds in time to repay the favour.

The journey, feeling agonisingly slow, only came to an end when he was finally shoved to the unforgiving floor, laying there groaning before being hauled onto his knees. And, when the stifling sack was pulled off his head, he only just managed to bite back a curse at the sight in front of him.

Norah couldn't do the same though – a gasp escaping her lips and her red-rimmed eyes widening as she stared at him, fresh tears welling up and making him wonder exactly how bad he looked.

"J-Just a scratch, darlin'," Kozik tried, a little lopsided grin quirking the corner of his mouth.

The redhead, trussed up worse than him with her hands tied above her head, only looked all the more anguished. The exact opposite of what he'd been going for.

"Koz …" she whimpered.

Just the sound of her voice made him clench his fists tighter. Fuck, she sounded so scared. He realised he didn't even care what the fuck had gotten them into this anymore, all he wanted was to get them out. And right now, he just wanted to tell her it was okay. How fucking stupid was that? Of course it wasn't okay.

She was strung up, her bare feet barely touching the ground, covered in smears of blood and dirt. Even the ropes around her wrists were bloody. He didn't even want to think about the rest – the pressure being put on her arms, the bruises on her thighs …

 _Fuck._

"I'm here," he managed roughly, blue eyes locked on her pale face. It was all he could say. That whatever the hell happened, he'd be right there with her. He wasn't going anywhere this time. He could only hope she knew that meant even if he'd had the choice. "I'm right here, baby."

"How touching …"

The little blonde bitch's light voice drifted towards them, making Kozik grimace. He wasn't above smacking a broad who needed setting straight, but he wasn't generally one for violence against women. For her though, he was already more than prepared to make an exception.

"Careful, big boy," she smiled, as if having read his mind. "Cross me and I promise you'll regret it. Just ask your friend. We'll leave you two to talk. Don't get too cosy."

But even as she made to leave, the girl half-turned over her shoulder with a deliberately thoughtful look etched across her face. One that feigned innocence and yet purposely revealed that she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Oh, hey, Norah?" she tried casually. "Does your biker friend here know about your other friend? You know the one? The detective? Gosh, I hope that wasn't a secret or anything. That would be … awkward …"

Even knowing the bitch was shit-stirring, Kozik didn't have a good feeling as she made her undoubtedly smug exit and he started to consider what he actually knew about the redhead he didn't want to admit he'd gotten in deeper than intended with. Beyond working for Gerry and being a pretty damn incredible lay, obviously. What in the blue fuck had his dick gotten him mixed up in this time?

Christ, Tig was never going to let him live it down, the sudden glum thought struck him – before he had to recalibrate it slightly.

If he ever made it out of this, Tig was never going to let him live it down.

 _Fuck._


	4. Four

**Four**

"Man, are we getting too old for this shit?"

"Uh, speak for yourself," Tig Trager protested, but he smacked the asses of the two leggy raven-haired croweaters by his side and sent them on their way before he pulled up a stool by the bar beside the club president. "Anyway, what's that saying? You're only as old as the pussy you're tapping …"

"What's that make you?" Clay grinned around his cigar. "Barely legal?"

"Anything in the rules say you holding the gavel means we gotta laugh at your jokes?" Tig shot back, as he signalled to the hang-around serving to pour them both another drink. "You don't think it's quiet for a Friday?"

The president surveyed his kingdom sceptically at that, taking in the amount of scantily-clad women among the bikers. Teller-Morrow was packed with his own crew and a fair few out-of-town patches clearly enjoying themselves. Few people would have settled on _quiet_ as a descriptor, but the clubhouse was admittedly less raucous than he'd seen it, so he supposed he knew what Tig was driving at.

Even the old ladies were in attendance tonight and that quickly sent out different vibes than most Friday night parties, quashing some of the wilder behaviour and certainly keeping a few rabid sweetbutts at bay. Not even the bimbos that buzzed around his men like flies on shit were stupid enough to risk the wrath of the Samcro queen and those she kept close. Most of 'em anyway.

"It's quiet," Tig persisted, taking a swig of whiskey. "For a Friday."

"What's the matter, Tigger? You're normally good at making your own entertainment," Clay said dryly.

But all he got was a distracted shrug, before his right-hand man seemed to visibly try to shake off whatever was on his mind.

"I'm just … I dunno. On edge or something," he admitted, raking a hand through his unruly dark curls.

"Why not work out that shit out in the ring?" Clay suggested, shrugging it off himself as Tig's usual over-abundance of energy. "You and Kozik are normally knocking seven bells out of each other by this stage."

"Blondie ain't even here," Tig scowled. "Unless he's found some gash who left her seeing eye dog outside …"

Clay laughed out-right at that, knowing even Tig knew that was reaching in terms of trying to insult the man his sergeant never seemed to know if he loved or loathed. The pair could be as close as any brothers, or at each other's throats. Still, it was usually entertaining for the rest of them.

And it wouldn't be surprising if the big blond biker was shacked up with some broad in one of the spare rooms. Sweetbutts talked – too much for Clay's liking, but enough to make it pretty clear the former Tacoma patch's recent move back to Charming had been a popular one. Now he thought of it though, he hadn't exactly been cutting a swathe through the croweaters. No doubt to their disappointment.

"He did say he'd be here. Hap too. Fuckers. If they've gone to that new strip joint without me …"

* * *

It took a hell of a lot of willpower and all his years of military training to force himself to keep a cool head, but Kozik's bound fists still clenched and his jaw tightened every time he looked up from trying to work on the rope around his ankles and saw the state Norah was in.

"Babe, listen to me," he tried, his fingers aching from his efforts to undo the tight knots. "I know you're scared and I know you're hurting, but you gotta stay strong. Talk to me. Who the fuck are these people?"

Fresh tears slipped down Norah's face, streaking through the blood and grime. "I don't know what they w-want from me," she whimpered.

"But you do know them?" Kozik persisted. "How? How do you know them? Who's the blonde bitch? Is she in charge? Come on, Norah, this shit's serious!"

"I'm s-sorry," she sobbed, making him regret shouting at her so harshly when he could see she was terrified.

"I know, baby, I know," he sighed. "Easy now. Deep breaths. Look at me. Look at me. It's gonna be okay. We'll handle this shit, yeah? You and me."

"I … I didn't recognise her," Norah managed, tears still spilling down her cheeks. "I barely saw her back then. But it has to be her. What she said. About … about the detective. It has to be her."

Kozik took a deep breath and tried not to let his impatience get the better of him. "Start with the detective. What we talking here? You ratting to him, or fucking him? And now ain't the time to be getting coy. I'm more worried about my actual fucking concussion than hurt feelings here."

"Her," Norah managed. "Melanie Solas. The detective."

The biker blinked as he slowly digested that information. "You're fucking a detective called Melanie? I did not see that coming … That's … kinda hot."

But Norah shook her head weakly, a strangled little laugh that sounded much too close to hysterics for his liking escaping through her sobs. "It's n-nothing like that."

Kozik wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, but he quickly moved on. "So it's business then? You talked about something you shouldn't?"

"I didn't know what else to do!" the redhead cried. "She told me I had to. For Danny. I thought … I thought it would be _over_. I just want it to be over!"

Having finally managed to loosen the ropes around his ankles just enough to get free, but with his hands still bound and his balance feeling off even sat on the floor, Kozik fell silent. He'd heard the heartbreak in her voice. Heard it and asked himself what he really knew about her past. They all had one after all. As an ex-junkie, he knew that better than most.

"Who's Danny?" he asked, not looking up.

The breath she took hitched in her chest. "My fiancé," Norah whispered.

* * *

"I tried calling the asshole," Tig declared, barging in on the conversation that, while hardly private was starting to suggest to Clay that calling it a night and taking his wife home to bed might be a pretty solid plan.

"Kozik?" the president shrewdly guessed. "Why? What's he done now?"

"Nothing – which is exactly my point. Where the fuck is he? He ain't answering, burner or his personal."

"And you're offended he stood you up?" Clay suggested, while Gemma also smirked, both of them amused this was bugging his sergeant quite so much.

"You're so cute, Tigger," Gemma teased. "Koz don't know what he's missing."

"Funny," Tig glared, blue eyes blazing. "Am I the only one taking this shit seriously? You _always_ answer your fucking phone. Always. What if shit was going down?"

"Then we'd have more to worry about than Kozik going AWOL for a few hours," Clay said reasonably. "Besides, I guarantee he's balls-deep in some tight little broad, definitely not thinking about your ugly ass. You need to chill out, brother. You been on those magic mushrooms again? You know they don't agree with you …"

The sergeant rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in a bid to keep a lid on his temper, especially with his president. "Whatever," he muttered finally, his gaze drifting around the room before seeming to fix on something that caught his interest. "I gotta go."

And so he did, leaving Clay to exchange a look with Gemma.

"What the fuck was that about?" Gemma asked, but she only got a helpless shrug in response.

"You know those two," Clay sighed. "Thick as thieves one minute, mortal enemies the next."

"Nothing's ever simple round this place, is it?" his wife said, her lips pursed.

"Nope," her husband admitted, a little grin on his face as he planted a kiss on her. "Just the way you like it."

* * *

"You ain't with him now."

It wasn't a question, but Kozik was still doing his best to tread carefully, despite everything. Even he could see there was more to all this than met the eye.

Norah shook her head.

"You leave him, or did he leave you?"

This was fucking stupid. It wasn't going to get them out of here. Or he didn't think so anyway. But he wanted to know anyway, and that niggled at him. What, was he jealous or some shit? Why? It wasn't like they were anything serious … Not really.

She hadn't answered him yet. She didn't have to. He had his answer just by looking at her.

"He left you," Kozik said, with forced casualness. "You deserve it? Or he some kinda crazy?"

"Murdered," Norah whispered, after a long painful pause.

That one soft word came right out of the left field for him and, as she lifted her head to look right at him, he silently cursed himself for inadvertently making her say it.

"Danny was murdered. By that bitch's brother."


	5. Five

**A/N: So sorry for the wait - I got a bit stuck on this, knowing where I need it to go, but not how to get there. Thanks to those still reading. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

* * *

 **Five**

He'd been a soldier. In so many ways, still _was_ a soldier, only now for his club instead of his country. Toughness and a survival instinct was ingrained in him, through and through. He wasn't a heartless bastard though and he could tell that so much of the pain written over the face of the girl in front of him had nothing to do with anything physical. But he couldn't let that get in the way of finding a way through this.

"Norah," Kozik started, looking up at her from his place on his knees. "I know this ain't easy. But I gotta know what we're dealing with here and we ain't got time to be anything but blunt. You gotta tell me everything you know – what your boy was mixed up in, who that bitch is, everything."

"He … He wasn't mixed up in any-"

"We ain't got time to dance around, doll," he said, fighting to keep from snapping.

"Danny wasn't mixed up in anything!" Norah insisted, a spark of anger vying with the pain and fear for a place on her pale face.

Kozik was glad to see it though. Anger was better than fear. Anger was better at keeping you alive.

"He wasn't," she repeated, obviously clocking the doubt on his own face. "He was a good man. A firefighter. He saved lives. He saved lives and it got him killed."

Shit. If that was true, then what she must have been though …

* * *

 _ **Five years earlier**_

Rubbing at her tired eyes, Norah finally headed out into the night air and tilted her head back in self-satisfied relief. Time had completely gotten away from her and it was seriously late, but her paper was done and she was actually pretty pleased with her effort. She could only hope her professor was too. And, despite having cut it close to the deadline, she'd even have time for one last skim over it with fresh eyes in the morning. Although she supposed it was already morning …

"Shit," she murmured as the reality of that set in.

While the fresh air was welcome after what felt like days cooped up in the law library, the prospect of walking home at this hour was not all that appealing. Considering that for a moment, she pulled out her cell phone to check exactly what time it was and winced.

Nearly 3am and three missed calls.

Uh-oh.

Already feeling horribly guilty, she hit call-back and wasn't surprised when she got an answer after like the second ring.

"Norah! What the hell, babe? Where you been?"

"Library. I'm so sorry. I was finishing that paper I told you about and totally lost track of time. I should have called. I meant to … How pissed are you, on a scale of one to fucking furious?"

The laughter on the other end of the line wasn't entirely unexpected, but it warmed her heart anyway.

"Like maybe a three, since you weren't warming my side of the bed when I got off shift," came the response. "But that was mostly disappointment. Could never be mad at my girl."

"Even if she asked you to come pick her up at 3am?"

"Now you're pushing it," he said, but she could hear the grin in his voice. "Be there in ten."

"I'll make it up to you."

"You bet your fine ass you will."

Struggling to keep the smile off her face, despite the exhaustion setting in, Norah set off for the side of the building where she knew it'd be easiest for her lift to pick her up. It wouldn't exactly be the first time. She knew he'd be as good as his word and get there as quickly as he could, knowing as he did that she was waiting alone in the darkness. She could have gone back inside, but he really wouldn't be that long and she wanted to be able to jump in the car as soon as he pulled up. The thought of getting home to their bed, fresh sheets, and his arms was beyond bliss at this point.

God, she was exhausted. She felt like she'd been running on empty for the last few weeks, but she had been studying like crazy and definitely not looking after herself like she should. Too many late nights and comfort eating her way through hours spent pouring over law books, like the pile in her arms right now, were bound to take their toll eventually.

It was lucky poor Dan was the understanding kind. That was why she'd agreed to marry him after all.

Oh, she loved him, of course. Adored him actually, with his ready laugh and warm brown eyes. She'd been stunned when he'd proposed, but beyond the surprise of it, there had never been a flicker of doubt in her mind. She'd said yes because she wanted to be his wife, but she'd said yes right then at twenty-three because she also knew being his wife would never stop her achieving whatever else she wanted. He wouldn't let it.

Nearly two years later and they were still engaged, stronger than ever, and starting to wonder why they'd decided to wait until after she graduated to actually get married. Although saving up in the meantime was a bonus. Not that they had anything too elaborate in mind. In fact, they more they thought about it, the better a simple ceremony on a Mexican beach was sounding.

Just their closest family and friends around them. Him looking so handsome with a loose white shirt thrown over his chocolate skin …

Norah smiled to herself at the thought as she let her mind drift, wandering aimlessly back and forth on the pavement under the street lights. She could practically see the way he'd look at her as she made her way down the sandy makeshift aisle, barefoot and in some floaty dress, fresh flowers in her hair … That little smile on his face, the one that brought out his dimples and wordlessly told her he couldn't wait to get her alone …

Something caught her attention, distracted as she was, and pulled her back to the deserted street. Not quite deserted though. A car was cruising past with the top down. She wasn't good with makes. Some big old classic. Rusty red. She couldn't swear to it, but she thought the same one had gone past when she first came out.

Probably just guys with nothing better to do, killing time or –

She tensed when she realised what she was looking at. Blank faces in the back. Totally blank. As in those creepy masks that left nothing but dark holes for the eyes and whited out everything else. She could feel those eyes on her, then one of them slowly lifted a hand in greeting and she had to fight not to turn and flee.

And then they were gone.

Fucking assholes. Hot anger, born out of chilling fear, flooded through her and she gritted her teeth, clutching her books tighter to her chest. Absolute _assholes_ , getting their kicks out of terrifying random people in the middle of the night. Jesus.

"Hey, beautiful, need a lift?"

Norah jumped in fright, dropping half her books and then groaning when she realised what had happened, slapping at the arm of the now sheepish enquirer. "You scared the shit outta me!"

"Damn, girl, wasn't expecting you to be so jumpy," Daniel Ashton said, crouching down to retrieve her scattered belongings and capturing her pouting lips as he straightened back up. "Sorry, baby. You good?"

"I am now," she sighed, slipping her arm through his. "Where's the car?"

"Left it just back that way. There's never anywhere to turn here, not without going all the way round and … Anyway, never mind that, you sure you're okay?"

But Norah just shook off her earlier concerns and smiled up at him. "I'm fine, honest," she said, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him again. And who wouldn't be?

By the side of more than six feet of solid muscle from the local fire department, there wasn't much worth worrying about. Especially not some stupid little shitheads trying to spook people. So, even when she spotted them making another appearance, this time on foot, she didn't give them another thought.

Maybe if she had, she'd have spotted the lethal looking blade that slid slowly from beneath a sleeve.

* * *

"Some gang of shitheads came after you?" Koz pushed, when Norah lapsed into troubled silence.

"Actually, no," she sighed, visibly trying to rally herself to tell the rest of her story. "We … I … It was only pieced together afterwards that it was the same gang. And it seems they weren't really after us at all, we just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Almost makes it worse somehow."

"So you know who they were?" the biker tried, needing her to get to something that could shed light on what the fuck was going on here. Although he was starting to realise just how bad that might be.

Shifting as best she could to try to ease the pressure on her arms, Norah nodded. "They call themselves the Blood Order. White power bullshit. They were just … cruising round town trying to make a name for themselves. And they did."

He thought she was going to clam up again, but instead the flood gates seemed to open and it all came pouring out as if she just wanted to get it over with.

"They ran a black couple off the road. The guy turned out to be mixed up with the One Niners, but I dunno if they even knew that. They just wanted to target them 'cause of their skin. We drove up on the wreck, didn't realise what had happened – just thought it was a crash. Danny … Danny got out to go help while I called 911."

Tears slipped down her cheeks and she had no way to wipe them away, making Kozik's jaw clench to see her like that without being able to do anything for her.

"It was just chance that we stopped," she managed. "But a bonus for those bastards. Because Dan was mixed race and they … they made him suffer for it. And I had to watch. I had to watch him die, Koz."

"Jesus, Norah," Kozik said heavily. "Fuck, baby, I'm sorry."

"It was … sick. I don't think I knew until then just what people could be capable of. And, do you know what? They were barely more than kids. Kids with knives and guns and so much hate."

"And this bitch is related?"

"I'm guessing so. They only ever got the ringleader and I testified against him," she confessed, anger beginning to cut through the pain and grief again. "And I'd do it again. _Decker._ Nathanial Decker. A vile piece of fucking shit who's not worth the oxygen he breathes. I never believed in the death penalty, but for him … I'd throw the switch myself."

"Where is he now?" Kozik asked.

Footsteps from the doorway moved closer through the shadows and that soft voice spoke up. "Yes, where is he, Miss Gerick? Do tell your little friend."

"San Quentin," the redhead bit out, with more venom than Kozik would have ever thought her capable of, as if the mere words were poison on her lips. "Life without parole. I hope he fucking _rots_ and—Oh!"

Even the biker flinched at the force of the blow dealt by the girl who had flown across the room to lash out at her prisoner. The vicious slap rocked Norah's head sideways with a crack like a pistol shot and immediately left a livid welt in the shape of a hand across her cheek. But, beyond the reflexive cry of pain, her only response was to laugh - the sound bitter, but a laugh just the same. Then she spat in the face of her furious captor.

"I hope he fucking _rots!_ " she seethed again, straining against the ropes that bound her with renewed vigour – at least until a second stinging slap left her gasping in fresh agony.

"I'd shut my mouth if I was you, bitch," the blonde said tightly, her usual composure sounding like it was close to breaking as she wiped her face with her sleeve. "I had you figured as smarter than this, but believe me, I'll be only too happy to teach you a lesson."

"Go to hell!" Norah managed, still all fire and fury in the face of that icy, albeit wavering, calm.

"Norah …" Kozik started, a warning note in his voice, even though he couldn't help the flare of pride he felt at seeing her refusal to back down.

"You should listen to your boy," their captor said, her demeanour turning sweet again, although it seemed to take more of an effort. "How long have you been fucking this one anyway? He's handsome and I'm assuming you'd like him to stay that way. I'd hate for you to lose another one … Besides," she added, cocking her head on one side like a little bird as she considered the scowling biker. "He's going to be more useful than the last."


End file.
